Tower of Paradise

Chapter 59: Remembering the past (2)

Well, it had been a while since I was here.

I entered the flower shop with slow steps, inhaling the sweet, fresh aroma that flooded the place. A young employee, in her twenties, welcomed me with a kind smile.

—How are you? —I asked, sketching a soft smile. I felt the corners of my lips trembling slightly as I forced the gesture.

—I'm doing well —She responded with a smile.

—People don't look for flowers because their emotions are dry. By the way, what happened to you these days? We haven't seen you around here for a while.

I felt a pang in my chest at her innocent question. I swallowed, trying to undo the knot forming in my throat.

—It's the same. My emotions have been dry these days.

—Oof! So, what excited you so much today that you bought all the flowers? —The employee looked at me curiously.

Her question took me by surprise. I looked at the huge bouquet I'm holding in my hands, as if seeing it for the first time. Why did I buy so many? The answer floats in my mind, but I refused to acknowledge it.

—Shouldn't I buy them? —I replied with a neutral voice.

—Would you like to get gypsophila this time too? —Asked the employee, pointing to the delicate white flowers.

—Yes. —I replied automatically. As she prepared the bouquet, my mind wandered. I remembered the first time I bought gypsophila. It was for Alessia, on our first anniversary. Her eyes shone when she saw the small flowers, like stars in a night sky.

—They're perfect. —she had whispered, kissing me softly.

I shook my head, trying to push away the memory. It hurt too much to think about those happy moments. I paid for the flowers and left the store.

My feet automatically took me to the nearby supermarket. It was quite full, probably because it was dinner time. I headed to the meat counter, trying to ignore the curious glances of some customers seeing my huge bouquet of flowers.

—Please, give me 150 grams of seaweed soup. —I asked the butcher.

He nodded and began to weigh the meat. As he did so, he looked at me with a mischievous smile

—Yes! 150 grams of seaweed soup. Whose birthday is it? You even bring flowers. —His question hit me like a punch in the stomach. I paused, feeling the pain spread through my chest. I forced a smile, though I knew it must have looked more like a grimace.

—Yes —I answered with a hoarse voice.

—My beautiful wife's birthday is today.

—Hey! I'm jealous that your wife is pretty. —The butcher joked.

—Alright, here's the meat.

—Thank you. —I muttered, taking the package. I quickly left the supermarket, unable to endure the looks and questions any longer. On the way home, I passed by a toy store and bought a teddy bear. Alessia always wanted to have one for our daughter...

Upon arriving home, I opened the front door and entered. The living room was dark, all the lights turned off.

—I'm back... —I announced out loud, more out of habit than expecting a response. The silence that greeted me was deafening.

I left my coat on the sofa and placed the flowers I bought on the table. The teddy bear found its place in a nearby chair. I changed clothes mechanically, my mind on autopilot while performing these everyday tasks.

I began to prepare dinner. The seaweed soup simmered gently as I leafed through a recipe pamphlet. The familiar aroma filled the kitchen, bringing with it an avalanche of memories. Alessia laughing as we tried to cook together for the first time, the pride on her face when we finally managed to make a decent soup...

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. I concentrated on setting the table, placing some garnishes from the refrigerator along with the seaweed soup. I added some rice and the table was completely set.

I looked at the table and my heart shrank. There were three bowls of rice and seaweed soup. Three, as if... As if they were here. As if they could join me in this lonely dinner.

Throughout the meal, my gaze was constantly directed to the other side of the table. There, on a shelf, was a framed photo. In it, Alessia and I smiled, embraced. Her bulging belly was evident, our hands intertwined over it. In front of the photo, I had placed one of the flowers I bought today.

—This is the first time I do it myself. —I murmured to the photo—. But it doesn't taste like you used to make it.

I tried to eat, but each bite was an effort. The soup, which should be comforting, tasted like ashes to me. I forced myself to swallow, spoonful after spoonful, but the action seemed almost impossible.

—I'm sorry. —I whispered, feeling tears accumulating in my eyes.

—For not being able to be with you. It's your birthday and I couldn't make it more delicious. —I got up abruptly, unable to continue sitting at that empty table. My entire body felt heavy, my shoulders drooping under the weight of loss. Without bothering to clean the table, I went straight to the shower.

Under the stream of hot water, my thoughts ran uncontrolled. Why did I think today would be different? It was a special day, yes, but that only made the pain more acute. I thought I would feel a little better, that I could honor her memory somehow. Instead, I felt more depressed than ever.

I got out of the shower and changed clothes without drying myself completely. I entered my room, where a bed too large for one person awaited me. Next to it was a small desk.

I sat down and began to dry my hair with a towel. On the desk was a thick notebook and a fine pen. Without hesitation, I opened the notebook.

Approximately one-third was already filled with tiny letters. It was my diary, which I had been filling every day since... since I lost them. I grabbed the pen and began to write on an empty page.

[December 17]

My hand trembled slightly as I wrote the date. I paused, breathing deeply before continuing.

[Happy Birthday, Alessia]

Once the first line was written, the next ones flowed more easily. It was always difficult to know how to start, but once I did, it was as if I were speaking directly to her.

[Today I left work a little earlier than usual. I promised, right? On your birthday, I would definitely leave early and prepare you a delicious seaweed soup.]

I raised my head and looked at the photo on the desk. Alessia smiled, radiant in my arms.

—It's the same photo as before. —I murmured, as if she could hear me.

—The seaweed soup... was it tasty? —I asked out loud before writing it in the notebook. There was no answer, of course. There was no way she would come back. She was no longer here. Neither she nor the beautiful daughter we could have had.

I bit my lip hard, trying to contain the tears that threatened to spill. If I don't, I felt that at any moment I would break down crying.

[I did what the book said, but it was strangely bland. I couldn't eat it all and only half was left. By the way, the flowers I bought today...]

I continued writing, relating the events of the day as if I were telling them to Alessia and our daughter. I told them what I want to tell them, what I yearned to hear from them. Writing it in my diary made me feel as if we were together, at least for a moment. It was a routine I had maintained every day since I lost them.

[I bought a teddy bear as a gift for Violet.]

[Violet... How is she? Do you like it?]

My hands trembled more and more as I write. The handwriting became irregular, my vision clouded. I lowered my head, feeling as if I were containing a dam about to break.

I want to hear their answers —I thought desperately—. I want to hear their voices. I want to see their faces. I want...

I clenched my teeth, fighting against the knot in my throat. I tried not to cry, but it was useless.

—I want... to see them. Please…

I couldn't contain it anymore. The truth was too painful to be conveyed in any other way. It was so sad, so miserable, that I couldn't even confirm what I was writing. I simply wrote it with the hope that, somehow, somewhere, they could receive it.

—I miss you... —I murmured, and with those words, something inside me broke completely.

It had been a month since I lost them. I thought it would gradually get better with time, but it hasn't been like that. Instead, as the days passed, the longing accumulated like water in a dam about to collapse. And now, the tears I had been holding back for so long flowed uncontrollably.

[I miss you... I miss you.]

I continued writing those words in my diary, unable to express anything else. I didn't know how long I spent repeating the same phrase, but when I finally regained my senses, an entire page was filled with those two words.

I dried my tear-covered face with trembling hands. For the first time, I murmured to myself instead of writing it...

—Actually... I'm a miserable bastard. —I looked at the lines I had written and couldn't help but laugh bitterly through tears. What expression would someone have if they saw me like this? Would they feel sorry for me? Would they think I'm crazy?

Either way, I knew that neither Alessia nor our daughter would want to see me like this. I tried to stop tormenting myself and finally went to bed, physically and emotionally exhausted.